I’d have sex with your wife, just one more time.
(Sorry, I couldn’t help it! Apologies if I seem to be introducing meanness into this thread…I’m just trying to make a little joke.)
I guess the various curses of addiction can be summed up as health hazards. Addiction is a vicious, terrible disease. But it tends to start off pretty nice (like marrying a Kardashian). I’d prefer not to turn my brain into mush and chain myself to the rail of sinking ship while watching my friends and family suffer and possibly get dragged down with me.
Many of the most addictive drugs mimic the brain’s innate pleasure responses, just amplified. I’d be down for a two-hour orgasm. But I know the consequences–down the road–are pure hell. As Cheesesteak says, remove the “down-the-road” and it’s a different ballgame.
I’m not sure why people include things like reading more books, although I too have a list of mundane things I’d like to do before I die. But reading a book doesn’t come with lifelong consequences (unless we’re talking about the DaVinci Code).
If I knew I was going to die miserably in pain:
[ol]
[li]get a credit card I can run up[/li][li]get body armor, a kick-ass assault rifle, a hand-cannon, a bunch of spare magazines and a tactical vest.[/li][li]put on a confederate flag t-shirt[/li][li]while wearing and carrying the above, walk at 1:00 A.M through the worst gang section of town on a Saturday night to the all-night White Castle.[/li][li]get some sliders[/li][/ol]Possible outcomes:
[ul]
[li]I get shot dead[/li][li]I shoot a bunch of gang bangers dead[/li][li]Police detain me[/li][li]I go home and chuckle that I dared anyone to give me shit[/li][/ul]
It’s interesting that many of these are a little ugly. I guess if it weren’t ugly, dangerous, or ruinously expensive, it would be on a Bucket List, though.
I think hot air ballooning should be Bucket, not Fucket. I plan to go soon. It’s expensive, but I have a good job, and I might not get a month’s warning.
I’m still working on one. The only one I’ve come up with so far is to have sex with a highly skilled professional. Oh, and a few addictive drugs, but I suspect I can get them from my doctor.
Well, that would take care of it, all right.
I’d try LSD, because it always sounded sort of fascinating to me but I’m far too much of a chicken to do it.
I’d see what the big deal was about getting drunk (yeah, I’ve never been drunk. Never really wanted to be.)
Go to a karaoke bar and have fun without being self-conscious (I’ve been told I have a decent singing voice, but I’m really shy about getting up in front of strangers)
Try some foods that I’ve been reluctant to try (I’m what they euphemistically call a “fussy eater”–I basically have, with a few exceptions, the palate of a 9-year-old Midwestern kid.) 
Spend a lot of time with the spouse and the cats.
Start sellin’ shit! Destroy my harddrive. Take my kid camping.
How sad.
how sad.
Oh ye of little humor.
-SHOPPING SPREE! I’d sign up for one of those pre-approved, no limit, whatever credit cards, and just blow it all on all the crap I wanted.
-I’d prank call every televangelist I could.
-Spray paint, “BUY A GODDAMNED BELT, FATASS!!!” on my neighbor’s car (this guy has the WORST case of plumber’s ass you’ve ever seen – he could probably be arrested for indecent exposure)
-Eat every single thing I love in the world, and get completely, stinking hammered.
Then I’d have sex with you and count back to see how close we all were to Kevin Bacon.
Why haven’t I been sitting next to you? I’m missing out.
Health-wise, I had quit drinking. Quit smoking. Only doped prescriptorially. Walked the treadmill every day. And my body went sproing! like a cartoon clock anyway. When I came out of a coma I remembered some wise words from my ex-husband: If they can’t take a joke, fuck it.
Since it was no laughing matter I decided to seriously pursue happiness religously. Reverted to my old ways. Haven’t looked back except to wave thru the car rear window.
The person wearing red in your dreams is me. (From another thread about minor movie characters.)
Park outside Rush Limbaugh’s studio, take some ipecac syrup, wait till just before it takes full effect, and go ralph on Rush.
Go to a Mitt Romney rally, get in the handshake line, snort some black pepper, and sneeze in Romney’s face.
Go to the Louvre and try to steal the Mona Lisa.
Visit my lost loves.
Tell everyone at work precisely what I think of them.
How sadder.
I haven’t thought out the whole 30 days yet… BUT at least 1 day would involve a Ferrari, a high priced call girl and some illegal substances. IE a normal day in Charlie Sheen’s life.
Hit the Republican Convention, Focus on the Family, and the TBN with Sarin.
(this idea is written for hypothetical purposes only)
Why do you assume he was kidding? Do you find people who express an interest in murdering people who disagree with their political views funny?
Today, my entry is:
Fly first class to London to take Brian Deer out to lunch, to say thank you.
So, your preferred way of dealing with people who disagree with your political views is to murder them?